


Politics

by Johncowdrey



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Elections, Episode: s03e07 Promotion, F/M, Politics, Post-Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johncowdrey/pseuds/Johncowdrey
Summary: Morse has to find something and he knows where it is and has to take a risk. Morse is a bit underhand but they all are.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday, Joan Thursday/Other(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 6





	Politics

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Linda for editing and posting.  
> Can be read alone but better after reading Voila!

POLITICS (VOILA PART TWO)  
1972  
After licking the gummy part of the envelope, and sticking it down, Morse  
sits for a long time starring at the envelope. Do I really want to bring down  
a whole lot of grief and pain on the Thursdays? All because of my bruised  
ego, a photo of Joan cavorting on a bed with a known gangster, the consequences  
don’t bear thinking about. Fred suspended, Win having a nervous breakdown,  
and poor old Sam the butt of every joke in the barracks.  
And what about Joan does she really deserve to be taken down by such  
a monstrous amount? Joan is a conundrum, how can such a champion of the  
underdog, advice centre worker, welfare supervisor and human rights  
demonstrator possibly vote Tory, let alone want to be one of their M.P.s?  
He decides it must be Phillip Brown’s influence, he would really enjoy getting the better  
of smug Mr Brown.  
Morse decides he needs some music to help him think this through, before  
making any hasty decisions.  
He gets up, pours himself a double Bells whiskey before turning his attention to his  
extensive record collection. After a few minutes of browsing he finally selects  
violin concerto no.1 by Bruch.  
This is a new addition to his library of records, and the first time he has played it,  
as the music wafts over him he sits back, closes his eyes and sips his whiskey.  
Twenty minutes later a broad smile appears on Morse’s face, it seems he has  
found the inspiration which he had been seeking, but he has to bide his time.  
ELECTION WEEK  
For the past 2 months Joan Thursday and her husband to be, have been busy  
canvassing in her home town of Oxford. She Knows it like the back of her hand,  
and also, the residents and traders.  
She shakes a lot of hands, and meets a lot of old friends who congratulate her  
on her forthcoming Wedding. Joan has done well thanks to guidance from  
Phillip. Although a Labour seat Joan is marginal favourite due to her local  
connections and knowledge.  
A few days before the election, Joan and Phillip breeze into the Police station  
as feted celebrities. What a change from 5 years ago when Joan was unpopular  
for running away, and giving poor Ronnie Giddertons funeral a miss.  
“Miss Thursday and Mr Brown welcome to Castlegate,” gushed Mr Bright, well  
aware that Brown was his ultimate boss. Meanwhile Fred was beaming like a  
Belisha Beacon knowing his only daughter had made a very good match.  
Detective Sergeant Strange was given a hug and a peck on the cheek. All poor  
old Morse got was the cold shoulder, it almost caused him to change his mind!  
After Joan was given the customary bouquet by the youngest WPC, Joan and  
Phillip left as triumphally as they arrived and were whisked away in a large  
black Rover Saloon car.  
Morse ‘s jealousy and dislike of Brown was growing but he comforted himself  
with the thought everything comes to he who waits.  
ELECTION NIGHT  
Morse decided to go and watch the counting, and Brown tries to make the event  
his own. However, it was Joan who stole the show. Morse thought she looked  
stunning. She had a very fashionable pageboy haircut which suited her to a tee.  
A fitted grey business suit which accentuated her trim figure, white blouse  
black court shoes, and a royal blue rosette of course.  
Morse could hardly take his eyes off her, and he was sure he was not the only one.  
It was close, very close, 3 recounts in fact, but Joan won by a whisker, 39 votes.  
Morse did not stay for the celebrations; he was not a political animal in fact he hardly  
ever voted.  
Back home he takes the photo out from its hiding place, gives Joan a kiss and then  
puts it back. After pouring a generous nightcap he settles down to listen to some  
Mozart before bed.

WEDDING DAY  
Because Phillip Brown is divorced, a church wedding is out of the question so they  
both decide on Caxton Hall in Chelsea, probably the most fashionable place to get  
married in London at that time. Fred and Win were witnesses, Carol and one  
of Joan’s old flatmates from her days in Oxford, were bridesmaids. Mr Bright was  
there, as was Strange, both as ushers. Morse was conspicuous by his absence.  
To tell the truth Joan was getting more than a little uncomfortable by Phillip’s  
treatment of Morse. Joan felt quite subdued on her big day.  
What didn’t help was that Joan was a healthy young woman, with needs that  
Phillip was unwilling or unable to meet, since their engagement anyway. The old saying  
of marrying a mistress creating a vacancy came to her mind.  
Day dreaming, she thinks of her old friend Claudine and wonders how she is,  
always talking about her sex life with Morse, and boasting about his 5 star  
performances, Joan seriously wonders if she’s married the wrong man.  
Giving her a nudge Fred says “Wake up Joan, the photographers are waiting”  
She looks over her shoulder and sees Phillip and the best man, a banker or  
something in the City, trying to chat up Carol. At least she’s enjoying herself Joan  
thinks.  
God, I wish Morse was here, he looked so dishy at the Town Hall, I nearly forgot  
myself, thinks Joan smiling at the thought.  
Finally, the ordeal is over for Joan, and her and her husband set off to the airport  
for their journey to the South of France.  
On their return from honeymoon Joan is again rejected by Phillip,  
“Is this how it’s going to be Phillip, a loveless marriage, I want children at some point  
you know”  
“What really went on between you and Marlock, Joan?”  
“Nothing I’ve told you a dozen times, He drugged me, and staged it to look like we had sex”  
“And Morton he fooled you as well”  
“Yes, I thought he loved me. After leaving Oxford I worked in one of his pubs in  
Leamington, and yes, I had an affair with him, like I had with you. Look, Phillip, I can’t  
put up with your jealousy any more, if you want a marriage in name only that’s fine by  
me, just let me know when you’re ready to grow up.”  
Joan moves into the spare room; I’m not going to cry she thinks I’m finished with crying  
over men. Joan makes herself comfortable in the big double bed, and says softly  
“If Phillip thinks I am going to be celibate for the rest of my life he has got another  
thought coming. I’ll find a lover and I think I know just the man.”  
With that Joan drops off to sleep.  
The next day Morse knew it was time to act. He took the photo out of it’s hiding place  
and carefully put it in his jacket inside pocket, and picked up the packet of cheap  
envelopes he had bought from WHSmith the day before. He then set off to the Thursday  
house in the old black Mk 1 Jaguar they used as transport. After exchanging  
pleasantries with Mrs Thursday they set off for Castlegate.  
“You weren’t at the wedding Morse?”  
“No sir, I wasn’t invited”  
“I always thought you and Joan were close, too close sometimes”  
“Perhaps that’s why sir” Morse said a bit cheekily.  
“Joan seemed a bit down, any idea why Morse”  
“Not a clue sir”, he wanted to say, anybody would, marrying Brown.  
When they reached Castlegate Morse parked the car and Fred went straight to his  
office.  
On the way to his own office Morse took a detour to the room where the  
photocopier was kept. Morse quickly switched it on and waited for it to warm up. After  
what seemed an age it was ready. Morse slipped his photo in, and pressed print. A  
smudgy print eventually appeared in the out tray. Morse didn’t bother to trim it with the  
nearby guillotine, he just folded the paper, and put it in his pocket. He then switched  
off the machine. Disaster was averted when on the way out he remembered the photo  
was still under the cover of the copier. Retrieving it he quickly made his way to his  
office.  
Good, nobody about he thought, closing the door of the office softly behind him he put  
the envelope in the typewriter, and started to painstakingly type out the address.  
Just as he was finishing Jim arrived, after a week’s leave.  
“What happened to you? I think Joan was disappointed you weren’t there matey”  
“Look don’t start Jim”  
Today was Friday and Morse had something very important to do this evening,  
and luckily, he had tomorrow off.  
When they leave at 5.30 p.m. Morse decides to go home for a couple of hours sleep.  
He wakes at 7.30p.m. and sets out for Kings Cross, having done the journey fairly  
recently he’s “au fait” with where to go however he feels none of the excitement and  
anticipation he felt last year at the thought of seeing Joan again. The train he wants is  
an overnight stopper to Edinburgh, taking 8 hrs. He needs to post the letter he typed,  
containing the photocopy there, and then he can come straight home. Bloody  
annoying, but essential to his plan.  
He buys his ticket, which is considerably cheaper than last time, and then goes to the  
same platform 5 as before and waits for the 11.55pm train.  
The train arrives 10 minutes late but it’s no problem to Morse, as he has plenty of time.  
When the train arrives Morse curls up in a corner seat and promptly goes to sleep,  
dreaming of Joan, and being dismissed from the police force.  
He wakes up in sweat, just outside of York, and decides not to bother with the  
station buffet coffee this time.  
At 8.30 p.m. his train crawls into Waverley station. Morse gets out to find what time his  
train home is. The indicator board says 10.25 a.m. slow train.  
Oh well thinks Morse and trudges off to find the main post office.  
This is of course in Princes St. He buys the stamps and posts the letter.  
Nothing to do now but wait for the shit to hit the fan. Right let’s find somewhere to have  
breakfast.  
Morse arrives home at 7.15 p.m., and is shattered, with aches and pains all over.  
He takes the precious photo out of his pocket and puts it back in its hiding place. As is  
his habit he pours himself a double scotch, puts on his favourite opera, AIDA, and  
settles down for the evening.  
THE BALL  
Joan meanwhile has a very different night in front of her, a Black-tie Ball at Smiths  
Square, H.Q. of the Conservative party.  
At their Westminster home in Lord North street, Joan comes down the stairs in a  
stunning sapphire blue ball gown, matching sapphire earrings, necklace, and bracelet.  
She has her lustrous black hair in her now trademark pageboy style, and of course  
impeccable makeup, all set off by her cornflower blue eyes.  
“What do you think,” Joan says giving a twirl.  
“You look very nice dear”, Phillip says in a patronising way.  
After a good 2 hours of getting ready, nothing like getting damned by faint praise, thinks  
Joan bitterly.  
She knows the real reason for his petulance with her,  
It’s his perennial and childish problem with jealousy and resentment, this time of her.  
Joan gave her maiden speech to the House of Commons a few days ago, she had  
refused Phillip’s offers of help, and ignored his warnings of pride going before a fall.  
In it she used her experiences of her work in welfare to explain how poverty and  
deprivation was living side by side with privilege and wealth, and in particular how this  
was having an effect on young children and teenagers.  
It was the first time in living memory that a maiden speech had received a standing  
ovation on both sides of The House.  
Despite her fears, the evening was a triumph for Joan. She was a very good  
dancer, who from an early age was taught by her Mum, and then at dancing school.  
And she was certainly kept busy. When she wasn’t dancing, she was talking to  
all manner of interesting people. The best thing for Joan was, she was being taken  
seriously, and not treated as just a piece of eye candy. Joan also made a friend of the  
formidable Margaret Thatcher, who while being on the opposite side of the political  
spectrum within the Conservative Party, was to Joan at least sincere.  
The highlight was when she was asked to dance by the P.M. Ted Heath. He  
congratulated her on her amazing speech and suggested they have tea the  
following week to discuss her future. When Joan excitedly told her husband her news  
he was, as expected, less than impressed.  
“Ted invites all new M.P.’s to have tea with him, don’t get too excited Joan”  
Joan just shrugs her shoulders and goes back to talk to Margaret.  
During her conversations, Joan gets the distinct impression that Phillip is starting to be  
thought of as yesterday’s man.

Ten days after Morse had posted the letter in Edinburgh the shit does indeed hit the fan  
as he had prophesised.  
Mr Bright is truly in a flap. After speaking to the Home secretary’s private secretary,  
Morse has been summoned to a meeting with the Home Secretary, Joan Brown M.P.  
and the Chief Commissioner of Thames Valley Police Sir Miles Burton.  
Mr Bright opens his office door,  
“Has anyone seen Morse, oh there you are, well come in man and close the door”  
Mr Bright tells Morse about the meeting Morse has to attend at 12.45 p.m. And  
suggests he goes home to change into a fresh shirt, and to press his trousers and clean  
his shoes.  
Morse arrives at the House of Commons at just after 3.00 p.m. He reports to the Visitors  
desk. The commissionaire asks him to wait and to take a seat while he confirms his  
appointment. Twenty minutes later a uniformed Police sergeant escorts him to Phillip  
Brown’s office and again asks him to wait.  
“When they are ready, they will call for you” he says  
Five minutes later Phillip Brown opens the door and invites him in.  
“Good to see you, please come in”, Brown says while extending his hand.  
“You know my wife, Joan of course “, Morse and Joan nod and shake hands, “and the  
Chief Commissioner of Thames Valley, Sir Miles Burton.” and Morse shakes his hand  
as well.  
Phillip Brown begins reading from a manila coloured file  
“I see you’re a Lonsdale man, I was at Baliol myself, you were an exceptionally  
gifted Greats scholar, but failed to sit for your degree. You then joined the Royal  
Signals, and you were deployed in West Germany as a code breaker. You achieved  
the rank of corporal and after 5years service you were honourably discharged.  
After completing your training at Hendon Police Academy you were fast tracked  
into the C.I.D. joining Cowley Police station near Oxford, you were promoted to be  
Detective Inspector Thursday’s “bagman”, a role usually reserved for Sergeants. This  
was in 1965.  
You were injured numerous times in the course of your duties. In 1966 you sat the  
Sergeants exam paper and failed because your paper went missing.  
This was grossly unfair, and I believe the rules have now been changed, thanks to my  
predecessor.  
In 1967 you were awarded the George Medal, and promoted to Sergeant on command  
of Her Majesty.  
In 1970 you sat the police Inspectors exam and passed with flying colours but you  
subsequently failed the Interview.”  
“Your immediate superiors view is that you are a brilliant instinctive detective but a less  
than brilliant policeman,”  
“Is this a fair assessment Sergeant?”.  
“Yes sir it is”.  
Sir Miles Burton then took over, asking many questions about policing, and how Morse  
thought the force should develop in the future.  
When Sir Miles had finished interrogating Morse, he left saying  
“He’ll do”.  
“May I ask what this is all about sir”  
“It’s Joan’s idea. To give you another crack at your Inspectors interview Morse,”  
“And,” replied Morse.  
“You’ve passed, providing you pass a little test we’re going to set you”  
Morse was stunned, he thought he was going to have to do some serious arm twisting,  
and it was all falling into his lap thanks to Joan.  
“Well I have to dash; I have an appointment with the P.M. Joan is fully briefed and has  
my full confidence” with that Phillip Brown was gone, he obviously didn’t want to get  
his hands dirty.  
Joan smiled and said,  
“Don’t bother to thank me Morse, I owe you for last year and if anyone deserves  
promotion you do”.  
“What do you make of this” Joan throws the envelope across the desk.  
Morse picks it up and pretends to study it.  
“Very cheap envelope, Edinburgh post mark, typed address, no characters missing or  
damaged.”  
Then he takes the folded paper out of the envelope and smooths it out on the desk.  
Leaning over it, he looks at it intently, and then holds it up to the light.  
“The paper is standard copier paper, used in all Xerox photocopiers. The image is very  
blurry but it looks like a copy of the prints we burnt last year”  
“It is Morse, it’s been under an image intensifier, and it’s definitely me.”  
“To state the obvious Joan, that means there is another print out there somewhere.”  
“Quite Morse”  
“So how come I’m involved this time?”  
“The photocopy was so bad that only I could be identified, but he called in Special  
Branch anyway, and from what I told them and the postmark, they concluded Marlock  
was behind the letter.  
They came down on him like a ton of bricks, searched his cell from top to bottom, and  
searched the library which he frequented. The strange thing is the typewriter in the  
library isn’t a match for the envelope, but the paper is a match for the library’s  
photocopier.  
Special branch also turned Charlie Nesbitt’s flat over and found nothing.  
“Marlock is still denying he has anything to do with it, and is demanding a lawyer.”  
“So apart from finding this photo, which Special Branch, with all its resources can’t do,  
I have to sort out their mess regarding Marlock. All to get a promotion I should have  
had a couple of years ago.”  
“I know, after last year I have no right to ask Morse, but could you do it...........for me?”  
“When have I ever refused you anything Joan?”  
“I won’t forget this Morse”  
Joan reached out and held his hand, while they starred into each other’s eyes.  
“Right” Joan suddenly remembering herself, said briskly  
“When do you plan to go to Edinburgh?”  
“Whoa, let’s think this through a bit, Firstly, because the envelope was stamped and  
not prison franked, Marlock must have an accomplice, someone he’s bribed or  
blackmailed. Did the photo copy have any fingerprints”?  
“Yes, but they weren’t his”  
“That confirms it, Joan, the photograph must be outside the prison”  
Joan then asks Morse if he’s sure it’s Marlock.  
“Absolutely, the question is what does he want?”  
Joan gathers together a pile of documents and passes them to Morse.  
A temporary Police Inspector’s warrant card, signed by Phillip Brown and Sir Miles  
Burton, complete with a passport sized photo of himself. A 1st class travel warrant for his  
rail journey, a letter of authorisation for his visit to Edinburgh H.M.P, and finally £50 for  
expenses.  
“Sign here please Morse, and don’t forget receipts.”  
“You never answered my question Joan, why me?”  
“Because there is no one else I trust, Phillip was a bloody fool to call in Special Branch.  
A sledge hammer to crack a nut. All that’s happened is more people than ever know  
about this bloody embarrassing mess. And you didn’t answer my question when are you  
going?”  
“The day after tomorrow “he said.

Morse was sitting in his chair, at his desk in Castlegate police station, he was  
waiting to see his boss, Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright, to give him his  
full title or Mr. Bright as he was usually addressed.  
“Come in Morse, I understand congratulations are in order”  
Morse went on to explain, that as well as his promotion, he had temporarily been  
seconded to the office of The Home Secretary. He was not, however, at liberty  
to say more, except that he had to go to Edinburgh the next day.  
After a celebratory lunch time drink with D.C.I Thursday and Sergeant Strange, he went  
back to his desk to tie up some loose ends, and to wonder what life would have in store  
for him as a D.I.  
It was 7 p.m. and as usual Morse was enjoying a well-earned whisky, when he heard a  
car pull into his drive. He turned the music down and went to look out of the window to  
see who it was. Parked was a royal blue Rover 2000, this year’s model, the doorbell  
rang and Morse opened the door. Standing in the porch was Joan Brown holding up a  
carrier bag and a bottle of white wine.  
“I thought we should have that meal I promised you”  
“Come in Joan, you look amazing”  
Morse’s eyes were popping out of his head when he saw Joan’s mini skirt.  
She thought to herself smugly, Morse is certainly interested, even if Phillip isn’t.  
Joan explained she couldn’t stay too long as she was on her way to see her parents.  
A likely story thought Morse.  
Dinner was a great success with the Chinese food going down a treat, and  
the chardonnay was very good too. When it was finished, he went to his fridge to get a  
bottle of Riesling. Joan protested she was driving, but carried on drinking. Joan was  
quite tipsy by now, and as the Chinese was finished, they both sat down on Morse’s  
somewhat overstuffed sofa, and almost immediately started to kiss passionately.  
Half an hour later Joan complained that she felt uncomfortable.  
“Well, I’ve got a brand new bed upstairs, if you fancy trying it out”  
Joan gave Morse a lascivious grin and nodded. A trail of discarded clothes soon led the  
way to his bedroom.  
Joan was about to forget she was an M.P. and respectable married woman.  
Joan and Morse were spent after 2 or 3 hours of energetic lovemaking. Before falling  
asleep in each other’s arms, it occurred to Joan that Claudine was being a bit  
parsimonious in awarding Morse 5 stars.7 was more appropriate!  
After a good night’s sleep Joan was the first to wake. Nudging Morse she said  
”You’re right, the bed is more comfortable than the sofa”.  
“Strangely Joan, my attention was elsewhere last night.”  
Joan sniggers and asks if there was any breakfast available, Morse replies  
“I thought you were in a hurry to see your parents”  
“I told them I may or may not be coming”  
“Did you come?”, Morse said with a sly smile  
“OH YES A NUMBER OF TIMES”  
They both convulsed with laughter,  
They agreed to meet when Morse had retrieved the photo, to talk about their future, or  
lack of it.  
CONSTITUENCY DAY  
Joan had to go straight after breakfast, it was Friday, her constituency day.  
Except in an emergency, Parliament never sat on a Friday, M.P.s usually went home or  
to their constituency.  
Joan planned to spend the morning with her Mum, have a chat, and then perhaps take  
her shopping in the car. Next, morning coffee at Win’s favourite coffee house. Win did  
ask if everything was o.k. between her and Phillip. (Unlike Fred, Win was not a great  
fan of Phillip).  
Joan answered cryptically that things were starting to get a lot better. She also told her  
Mum in detail about the Ball, and how she had danced with the Prime Minister and  
made a friend of the famous Margaret Thatcher.  
Not for the first time Win marvelled at how life had changed for her little girl since the  
dark days of 1967. Though her Mother wasn’t entirely convinced it was all for the better  
Joan was overjoyed to hear her younger brother had made Sergeant. From his last  
letter, Joan had the impression that Sam felt distinctly overawed by his elder sister, and  
was getting more than his fair share of stick about her. He had at least done it all by  
himself, she thought rather harshly of herself.  
Win took up the conversation saying her Dad had finally started to think seriously about  
retirement. The conversation then turned to Morse and how Win couldn’t believe a  
lovely man like him hadn’t got a girl tucked away somewhere. With this, Joan’s coffee  
went down the wrong way, and she nearly choked to death. Win finished by asking Joan  
to find him a nice girl.  
“I think we’ve been down that road Mum”.  
By the time they got back home it was time to leave for her lunch date at the Randolph  
Hotel. Joan gave her Mum a big hug, and promised to ring in a few days, and she  
would see her next week. Win was struggling to keep back the tears as she always did.  
When Joan walked into the Dining room the two men she had come to see stood up  
“Dan, George, how are things?”  
Dan being Joan’s agent and George the local Conservative party association  
Chairman.  
Over the next few hours there followed a general discussion about party business, and  
as usual the Northern Ireland question.  
The meeting for the afternoon had had to be cancelled due to a burst pipe at the  
Conservative club resulting in extensive flooding.  
“Great” thought Joan, “I’ve got a free afternoon.” Her first thought was to go back to see  
her Mum but she didn’t want to go through all the goodbyes again. Morse would be on  
his way to Scotland, so Joan did something she hadn’t done in years, go to the pictures  
to see Papillion, and even Steve McQueen couldn’t stop her thinking about Morse.  
The weekly constituency surgery, this was where the local residents brought their  
problems to Joan to ask her advice, and seek her help to get them resolved.  
It soon got round that despite her years, Joan was a very experienced social worker and  
forceful negotiator with bureaucracy, and she always provided a sympathetic ear. This  
all led to an always full house.  
Joan took these surgeries very seriously, and was relieved that George was able to  
arrange the use of the Church hall next door, as a venue.  
Joan had a very tough night, the problems caused by Cranmer house were still  
reverberating, compounded by numerous faults found in the two sister tower blocks.  
The doors were finally closed at 10.30p.m an hour late, and she felt far too tired to drive  
home. Morse had given her a key” just in case”, and she was missing him so she drove  
to his place, praying there was no burglar alarm. A half hour later she was curled up in  
the bed they shared the night before.

Morse was running late, partly because of the night before, but mainly because of his  
own carelessness. He couldn’t find the documents and none of the money he had been  
given a couple of days ago by Joan. He eventually found them, and he looked at his  
watch 10.30 a.m. he ‘d never make the 12.15p.m. now, which meant an extra day in  
Edinburgh. The next train was 3.15 p.m. Which meant 8.15 p.m. was the earliest he’d  
arrive Damn!  
Morse took his time, and arrived at King’s Cross at 2.20 p.m. Morse fancied a drink so  
he had a couple of pints of Guinness and a cheese roll at the bar.  
The train was waiting for him at platform 5 again. On boarding the train, the 1st class  
compartment seemed like another world, spotlessly clean, comfy seats with plenty of  
leg room, antimacassars, and a little light above his head. Joan probably travels like  
this all the time now he thought enviously.  
Another bonus of 1st class was it gave him access to the Dining car, and waiter service  
for drinks and beverages. The only downside was the posh gent in the corner who kept  
giving him suspicious looks. The journey flashed by with a trip to the Dining car, and  
several large scotches at the bar, all with the compliments of Phillip Brown and his  
£50. Arriving at Waverley Station Morse was glad he had the foresight to book a room  
at a guest house before leaving home.  
Before falling asleep Morse was wondering about Joan. Was she still playing games  
knowing she could wrap him round her little finger? They had hardly kissed before and  
then last night WOW!  
The train ride had brought it home to him the difference in the worlds they lived and the  
people they associated with, if push came to shove, would Joan give it all up, he very  
much doubted it.  
To look on the bright side this had all been about righting the wrongs of his interview to  
be an Inspector. This was conducted by the incredibly corrupt A.C.C Bottoms, who  
subsequently left the Force under a cloud, but with his fat pension intact, of course.  
Now he had almost achieved his goal, and got his Inspector’s pips he had to remain  
focused, and stop mooning over Joan. Although Morse knew he was very much in love  
with her, he could not afford to let his heart rule his head again. The next morning the  
helpful girl behind the reception desk booked his taxi to the prison.  
“Are you visiting someone?” she asked.  
Proudly flashing his new Warrant card Morse answered that this was an official visit.  
As it was a Saturday morning the A71 was clear as they headed west. In no time at all  
Morse was standing outside the prison, reading his authorisation again. It more or less  
gave him the power to do whatever he wished, apart from throttling Paul Marlock that is.  
At the visitors’ desk there was a long queue to see the man behind the window, so  
Morse just walks straight up and demands to see the Governor.  
(Morse has become a little intoxicated with his new powers).  
The guard reads the authorisation, and asks to see his I.D. Morse shows him his  
warrant card with a flourish.  
Morse waits outside the Governor’s office with his legs crossed, and clutching his brief  
case.  
Governor Charles Smith comes out and invites Morse in to his office  
“I gather that this is a follow up visit to see Prisoner Marlock, Inspector?”  
“Yes sir, first I would like to see his file, if I may?”  
While Morse is waiting for the file to be delivered, he has a general chat with Governor  
Smith about Marlock all of which is confirmed by his file.  
Closing the file, Morse thanks the Governor for his time, shakes hands and out of  
courtesy informs Mr Smith he plans to visit the senior Doctor next.  
Coincidently it seems the Doctor is an old fishing buddy of Max, and a long friendly chat  
follows in which the Doctor gives an assessment of Marlock’s mental state.  
“Hello Paul, how are you?”  
“Sergeant Morse so you’ve joined this wild goose chase as well”  
“You know this isn’t going to stop Paul until they get their photo back”  
“Well I haven’t got the bloody thing Sergeant.”  
“No Paul, I have”, with that he takes the photo out of his case and shows Paul.  
Paul is completely Dumbstruck.  
“I hear you want to transfer to Broadmoor Paul, why?”  
“Because I’d rather be a patient than a prisoner, and Cole Matthews can’t get me  
there. He thinks it was me who informed on him, at the Wessex Bank job.”  
“Trouble is Paul, you’re not mad the doctor here will never sign you off, but I may be  
able to help”  
“How can you help?”  
Morse then shows Paul his letter of authority.” See I have powerful friends”  
Paul is really impressed “So what do you want from me?”  
“A letter witnessed by the Governor, to the effect you will produce the photo if you get a  
permanent transfer to Broadmoor arranged”  
“Supposing the Governor won’t agree to sign it”  
“He already has agreed Paul”  
Morse then takes the photo out of his briefcase, puts it into a large manila envelope and  
seals it. He then signs across the flap. Morse then gives the envelope to Marlock  
saying,  
“Somebody will be up for you shortly, to escort you to the Governor’s office where the  
typed document to be signed will be waiting. This is a one-shot deal; you sign or you  
stay here for good. After signing and dating you will leave this envelope with Mr Smith  
and return to your cell. I will see you tomorrow to discuss your transfer. One last thing,  
should you talk to anyone including Mr Smith about our conversation you will be  
whisked off to Parkhurst to become Cole Matthews new cell buddy. Do I make myself clear?”  
Marlock white as a ghost nods furiously.  
Before he goes Morse calls into the Governor’s office and asks him if the envelope and  
statement could be kept in the safe, ready for his collection tomorrow.  
Mr Smith readily agrees.  
They shake hands, and Morse leaves to look for a taxi.

Outside in the sunshine Morse gets into a waiting taxi, gives the driver the address of  
his guest house, and settles back to enjoy the ride back to the guest house.  
By the time Morse gets back to the centre of Edinburgh it’s 3.30pm. He knows he  
should have something to eat as he plans to go out tonight for a few pints.  
Morse settles on fish and chips in a nearby pub.  
When he gets back to the guest house the very helpful girl is still on duty, and Morse  
strikes up a conversation with her which results in them arranging to meet at a local pub  
at 8p.m.  
Morse then decides to go upstairs to his room to do a crossword and listen to some  
music on the room’s radio. Remembering he has to phone Joan, to report his progress  
he goes out to find a phone box, and finds one on the corner that isn’t out of order.  
“Morse, this is Joan darling, how did things go?” she says after picking up the phone.  
“Good, the print is in the governors safe”  
“Wonderful where was it?”  
“I don’t know, he made me go to the canteen while he got it, he wants to go to  
Broadmoor, Joan is that possible?”  
“I don’t see why not”  
“I don’t think it would be wise to piss him off right now you know”  
“I’ll speak to Phillip, by the way I spent last night in our bed, at your house and thought  
of the night before darling I’ll ring you tomorrow night at home, I have your number”  
Morse hung up the phone and wondered why he let her make him feel so guilty, after all  
he was only going out for a harmless drink, wasn’t he?  
THE DATE  
The Old Pretender pub was certainly a good choice for a first date. It was a large pub  
set back from Princes St, with glass folding doors along the front of the pub and  
because it was a very warm night, they were all open.  
The pub tended to attract a young crowd, and while it was loud enough to be buzzy, it  
was still perfectly possible to make yourself understood without shouting.  
Morse and Anne (his date) were lucky enough to get a table at the front of the pub near  
the folding doors. It was 9 p.m. and they were getting along like a house on fire, Anne  
told him she was finishing her final year at St Andrews. After the summer break she  
hoped to do Post graduate studies at St Matilda’s, Oxford and tour Oxfordshire.  
Morse complimented her by saying he was sure she would be a great success and went  
on to say he had studied Greats at Lonsdale College Oxford, but dropped out because  
of personal problems.  
He went on to ask about the subjects she was studying, which were criminology,  
forensic science and behavioural psychology, the study of serial kiIIers.  
She explained that she had a particular interest in Ed Gein, and the Zodiac Killer,  
and that unsurprisingly her favourite film was Psycho.  
On a lighter note she talked about some of her funnier experiences at college, and the  
guest house.  
Morse then asked if she lived in the Halls of Residence, to which she answered that she  
had a bedsit nearby.  
At this point Morse went to get fresh drinks, and as he was not over impressed with the  
bitter on offer switched to a double Glenfiddich, no ice. Anne stuck to a gin and tonic,  
same as Joan, Morse thought.  
It was now Anne’s turn to quiz Morse about his present case. Unfortunately, Morse  
could only tell her it concerned the Home office and a prisoner at Edinburgh prison.  
Morse’s tongue had loosened considerably thanks to another couple of double scotches  
and Anne was becoming very giggly.  
Morse decided to keep the conversation going by telling her about some of his earlier  
cases. He starts off by recounting how about 5 years ago a fully grown Bengal tiger was  
terrorising the local forest, killing amongst others a bird watching professor and a goat.  
Anne is starting to get a fit of the giggles.  
Warming to the subject he tells how an armed search party tracks the tiger to a maze at  
a country estate, where he is almost killed protecting a girl before the tiger is shot dead  
by his Chief Superintendent.  
Anne has her face in her hands almost crying with laughter, oblivious to Anne he recalls  
while investigating a murder at The Wildwoods mansion he is given a deadly  
hallucinogenic potion by a demented groupie.  
Anne by now is doubled up with laughter, tears streaming down her face. She tells  
Morse she has to go to the ladies.  
Morse just sits there with a puzzled look on his face, confused at her hysterics.  
When she comes back drying the tears from her eyes, he asks if she wants to hear  
about another case. She nods her head, trying not to laugh.  
“Well it’s about the time I was accused of strangling the Chief Constable with a scarf  
my girlfriend gave me”  
Anne completely loses her composure as Morse carries on, that after being released  
from jail he spent months in an old log cabin by a lake without running water and  
electricity, and how he meets a multi-millionaire called Bixby who becomes his best  
friend and invites him to all sorts of black-tie events at his nearby mansion, and how  
Bixby is eventually shot by his twin.  
Anne says enough, and that she can’t take anymore,  
“You know what Morse you are funniest man I’ve ever met; how did you make all that  
up and tell it with such a straight face?”  
“I promise you Anne, every word is the absolute truth” Morse protests.  
Anne looks at her watch and says “It’s almost closing time, we might as well go”  
“Where to?” Morse says hopefully.  
“To my place of course, unless you want to spend another night in that dump of a guest  
house, laughing really turns me on, so be warned. By the way if we’re going to spend  
the night together I should at least know you’re first name”  
“Endeavour “Morse says truthfully.  
“You never stop do you?” Anne says while rolling her eyes  
The next day, after kissing each other good bye, and promising to keep in touch, Morse  
wanders back to his dreary guest house. On the way he ponders why, when he finally  
has a chance with Joan, does he do things like this? After a minute or twos thought he  
realises it’s because he can.  
After packing, paying his bill (making sure he got a receipt), and breakfasting he’s ready  
to leave, and a receptionist again gets him a taxi to the prison.  
Morse has a bit of a wait as it’s Sunday, and taxis are few and far between.  
Morse again jumps the queue of people waiting at the visitor’s office, much to their  
annoyance. The Governor, Mr Smith has a day off, but his secretary, Miss Jones knows  
all about the arrangement and hands over the envelope and statement. Morse checks  
the signatures and leaves.  
His next stop is the infirmary to say thanks and goodbye, and to promise to  
remember the doctor to Max.  
Going into Marlock’s cell, Morse is confronted by a very smug Paul, who tells  
Morse,” All being well I should be leaving at the end of the week”  
They say goodbye and Morse very reluctantly shakes his hand.  
On the way back Morse wonders whether to call Anne for a lunchtime drink followed by  
an afternoon romp but quickly thinks better of it.  
On arriving back in Edinburgh central he is disgusted to find out all the pubs are closed.  
A passer-by tells him Sunday is a dry day in Edinburgh.  
Morse is speechless.  
His train does not go until 3.15p.m, in just over 2hours time. Determined not to be  
beaten in his quest for a pint Morse goes looking for a suitable watering hole.  
During his search he runs into Anne, who being a practising Catholic is on her way  
home from Church. She reminds Morse that she is off work until tomorrow morning, and  
suggests that they keep each other company.  
Morse is very sorely tempted, but somehow common sense prevails and he declines  
very gracefully. He then does something incredibly stupid. Remembering from last  
night that Anne is planning to visit Oxford and the surrounding area sometime, with his  
customary charm offers her his spare house key, with the throwaway line “drop in anytime”.  
She hugs and kisses him with excited glee, and saying before leaving,  
“I’ll phone you first”  
Waving to Anne as she walks away the horrifying thought dawns on Morse that only 2  
days ago, he gave his other spare key to Joan.  
The worst case scenario filters into Morse’s brain, of Joan looking to surprise him  
stumbling into his bedroom only to find it occupied by a younger girl, or even worse a  
younger girl and Morse.  
Morse is well aware of Joan ‘s legendary temper and does not wish to be on the  
receiving end.  
Morse decides to put this calamity to one side, he really can’t be bothered to chase after  
Anne to demand his key back.  
Settling back in his plush 1st class compartment he wonders what Joan will have to say.  
Has she told Phillip about what happened between them, or has she decided to forget  
about them as a couple? Putting it down to an error of judgement as all politicians do?  
He muses again about what the future might bring as a D.I. Would he form his own  
team, with a bagman of his own? If so, with who, and more to the point where, if  
Thursday doesn’t retire? Supposing if, horror of horrors, he was forced to go back into  
uniform again, something to do with traffic, he might even be appointed assistant to  
Mr Bright ‘s successor?  
A change might not be such a bad thing, for one thing he’s sick and tired of Fred  
eulogising about his son in law. If things go the way he hopes with Joan, a working  
relationship with her father will be impossible anyway.  
The train has just passed York, and Morse thinks he will have a nap. He wakes up  
shortly before the train is due to arrive at Kings Cross. He looks at his watch, 8.25p.m  
and realises he wasn’t going to make it home before Joan was going to call at 10p.m.  
and wonders if he should take a chance and phone her from a station phone booth, but  
decides not to as her husband might answer. In the end he concludes the best course  
of action is to hope Joan rings again.  
Morse has forgotten that a Sunday service timetable applies to public transport  
today, but he does manage to catch the last but one train home to Oxford, where  
Morse does have some luck though, when he sees a waiting taxi at the rank.  
He starts the last leg home thinking, at last it’s almost over.  
As Morse turns the key, and thankfully pushes the door open, the phone starts to ring.  
Morse dashes over to the other side of the room to answer it, and they both start to talk  
at once.  
“Morse, where have you been, are you alright, this is the 3rd time I’ve rung?”  
“Everything’s fine Joan, I’ve got the photo, and Marlock is happy”  
Joan went on to say that she’s made up her mind, and she wants a divorce. The  
question is when it’s done and dusted does Morse want to try and make a go of it?  
“I think the time for us to pussy foot about is long past, so what’s it to be”  
Morse reassures her that he’s loved her since he first walked her home 7years ago, and  
that he will always support her. He finishes off by saying it’s his dearest wish they build  
a life together, and have children, all the words he should have said 5 years ago.  
Joan and Morse are both very emotional, they’ve finally said what should have been  
said years ago. Getting back to business Joan says,  
“We have an appointment with Phillip tomorrow at 5p.m to wind this Marlock business  
up, and confirm your appointment to D.I. Afterwards I plan to tell him I want a divorce  
and to tell him about us. Phillip can be a very nasty piece of work, so I would like you  
there with me”  
“Try not to worry too much darling, I’ve got few things up my sleeve if he starts to get  
too stroppy, and of course I’ll be there with you”  
With that they both say good night, to think about what tomorrow will bring.  
Morse immediately realises Joan has a serious problem, but he can do nothing tonight.  
Joan stays in her room, without a word to Phillip.  
It’s Monday morning and Morse decides to have a lie in before going to the Station,  
after all he’s not expected yet. He knows he should have told Joan everything last night  
but the timing just did not seem right, and yes, he is putting it off, but he knows he can’t  
put off telling her for much longer. He stole the picture from Joan originally because he  
wanted something to remember her by (it was only later nefarious ideas came into his  
head). (The fact that she was almost naked certainly was a bonus). However, he really  
did not want Marlock leering in the background, and had planned to erase him at some  
point, but news of Joan’s engagement had changed his mind.  
Morse makes up his mind to take some precautions. Hunting about his house he found  
a similar sized photo and placed it in a brown envelope, sticks it down and signs over  
the flap. Morse knows he is taking an awful chance doing this, but he has no choice,  
and if Phillip Brown doesn’t do what he expects him to do, then bang goes his  
promotion, and probably bang goes his bloody job!  
Morse takes a chance and phones Joan. As it’s a new week in Parliament she’s very  
busy, but after a lot of pleading on Morse’s part, Joan agrees to see him at 3.30p.m.  
for 20 minutes, and before hanging up tells him,  
“This had better be bloody good”.  
Morse arrived outside Mr Bright s office knocked and waited  
“Come in Morse, are you back with us now?”  
“Not quite sir I have a meeting with the Home Secretary and his wife later on today, to  
sign off on my assignment, and to formally be appointed Inspector.”  
They went on to discuss Morse’s’ new role as an Inspector. Morse was prepared to stay  
on in his present job for the time being, but Mr Bright thought that would be impossible.  
Mr Bright suggested New Scotland Yard,  
“Where you might reacquaint yourself with W.P.C. Truelove” he said with more than a  
touch of envy.  
Morse agreed that was something to consider (especially as Joan lived in Westminster).  
Morse shook hands and said he would see Mr Bright tomorrow to start his new duties.  
The traffic across town was horrendous, and he knew he would miss his train, and  
getting to his appointment with Joan was going to be tight!  
Worse was to follow when it was announced at Oxford Central station that  
due to a derailment further down the line, all trains would be subject to a  
45-minute delay.  
Nothing for it but to phone up Joan’s office and apologise for not showing  
at 3.30pm, but reassure her that I’ll be there for 5.00p.m.  
Morse eventually arrives at 3.40 p.m. at Paddington, from there it’s a straight forward  
trip on the underground to Westminster station.  
Morse walks into the Great Hall at the Palace of Westminster, reports to the  
Commissionaire he saw before, and wanders off to find a cafe.  
By now Morse is feeling like a man waiting to go to the gallows, and wonders whether to  
use his “insurance policy “, but decides to hold back for the time being.  
When Morse has finished his half decent cup of black coffee, he ambles back to sit with  
his friend the commissionaire.  
Joan comes down early to collect Morse for their meeting,  
“Joan did you phone me from your room last night?”  
“Yes, why?”  
“Your phone is bugged, Phillip knows everything, you need to report a fault to the  
G.P.O. I know it’s a phone tap I was in the Royal Signals for 5 years. We need proof so  
phone the G.P.O NOW.” Says a panicky Morse.  
“O.k. o.k. Morse, I’ll do it, calm down.”  
After the phone call Morse hands Joan the envelope,” This contains the real photo keep  
it somewhere safe, I am sure Phillip is up to something, I just don’t know what.”  
“Time to face the music Morse” Joan says jovially.  
Climbing up the grand staircase, with the portcullis motif green carpet, it occurred to  
Morse he was going to see one of the most powerful men in the country, a man who he  
had cuckolded, and a man who knew he had.  
Joan gave his hand a squeeze and said,” Cheer up”  
Phillips office was on the 1st floor with the rest of the cabinet high flyers, Joan rapped  
hard on his polished wooden door. Wreathed in smiles Phillip opens the door,  
“Come in, come in, please take a seat “  
2 chairs were side by side facing his antique Georgian desk. Phillip sat in a carver chair  
opposite.  
He looks at Joan and says,  
“I hope you don’t mind, but as the two of you have evidently decided to become a  
couple, I thought it was appropriate to treat you as such.” Phillip says surprisingly  
pleasantly.  
Joan just shrugs and Morse just stares blankly ahead.  
Phillip goes on,  
” Ok, we’ll return to our little ménage a trois a little later.”  
First, I would like to congratulate Inspector Morse for amazingly recovering the  
photograph single handed, which 3 of our much vaunted Special branch failed to do “  
Phillip goes on,” It therefore gives me great pleasure Sergeant Morse to confirm your  
promotion to Inspector”  
With that Phillip hands over an envelope containing formal notice of his promotion duly  
signed by the Home Secretary, and the Chief Commissioner. They shake hands.  
Phillip then holds out his hand indicating to Morse he wants the photo.  
“If I may Inspector?”  
“Of course, Sir.”  
As he hands over his photo, he thinks” well this is it, shit or bust”  
“I don’t think either of us want to see the sordid contents, do we Joan, I’ll put it in the  
safe for safe keeping, and dispose of it later”  
“If you’ve finished Phillip, can we get back to our separation and divorce? You  
obviously know we’re having an affair, and we’re in love, so where do we go from  
here?”  
Phillip was very reasonable, and because of his little problem he could well understand  
her finding a lover, and as Joan wanted children someone she loved was ideal.  
Therefore, Joan and Morse had his blessing.  
Phillip had however 2 stipulations, firstly that they must be very discreet. Secondly, any  
child born within six months of their divorce would be recognised as Phillip’s child. This  
caused Morse a few problems, but he finally agreed.  
They agreed to instruct their solicitors to start divorce proceeding in 2 years’ time on the  
grounds of irreconcilable differences. After shaking hands again Joan and Morse left  
Phillips office.  
“Well Joan, to say that was surreal is the understatement of the century. I expected him  
to punch me in the face, why did he keep that photo, after all the divorce arrangements  
are settled?”  
THE TEA ROOM  
“Let’s go to the tea room, and I will try to explain, as best I can, but it can be more or  
less summed up in one word, POLITICS.”  
The tea room at the House of Commons was not what Morse was expecting. It would  
not have looked out of place on board the opulent Titanic, and it was full of lounging  
Tory M.P.s who acknowledged Joan but ignored him. They were in the middle of  
serving afternoon tea, so it was busy, but Joan flashed her smile at a waiter and a place  
was found by the window. Or, rather the high glass wall that ran the length of the entire  
room affording magnificent river views for the tea room’s patrons.  
After they were seated Joan began.  
“About 10 days ago I had tea with the P.M. and he told me in strictest confidence,  
information he received from the chief whip. Apparently, Phillip and his cronies are  
planning a coup against him. He wanted to know which side I was on, and I was  
promised a job in the cabinet if I sided with him. Phillip is desperate to know which side  
I’m on. After all, if I don’t vote for my husband who else will? This is why he has bugged  
my phone, to spy on me politically, not us darling. This was also the reason for the  
charm offensive we’ve just witnessed. Giving us almost everything we want in an oh so  
reasonable way, while knowing he can take it all away if we upset him”.  
“Why is the photo so important to him?”  
“That was a brilliant idea Morse, at the very least it’s bought me some time, the photo is  
his nuclear option, to blackmail me, but he’d much rather get me on side by gentle  
persuasion. If he did leak the photo it would probably ruin him, at the very least reduce  
him to a complete laughing stock.”  
“What do you think will happen to Phillip if his coup is unsuccessful”  
“He would be dismissed from the cabinet in disgrace for disloyalty, banished to the back  
benches, and probably be de-selected at the next election.”  
Joan looks around and sees a waiter in a customary emerald green waistcoat, with  
brass buttons, black bow tie and white gloves, and she calls him over.  
“Pot of tea for 2 with scones, jam and clotted cream please, can you put them on my  
account?”  
When the order arrives, Joan begins pouring the tea and says,  
“You realise at some point Phillip is going to find out we switched the photo”  
“I think if what you say is true it will be too late for him to do anything about it, and if he  
wins he’ll have other things on his mind. By the way Joan which side do you intend to  
support?”  
“That’s a bit naive darling, the one who I think is going to win of course.”  
THE END  
EPILOGUE  
While Joan and Morse are enjoying their tea and scones:  
Colinton is situated approximately 5miles south west of Edinburgh Central and is one of  
the poshest suburbs of Edinburgh, and the family home of Anne.  
Anne has just graduated from St Andrews university, and is telling her mum, about her  
new boyfriend, the Oxford Police Inspector, and how he has invited her to stay at his  
place while she visits Oxford, in fact she plans to go early, and surprise him at the police  
station he works from. Who knows he might even arrange a tour of the cells?  
“Are you sure about all of this dear?” knowing how impetuous her daughter was.  
“Of course, mum, he gave me a key” she says holding it up.

OBITUARY 1975  
Paul Marlock takes to life at Broadmoor like a duck to water, he is soon regarded as a  
cut above the other patients (not difficult when everyone else is insane), and soon has  
the prized job of supervising the library, with a trusty to assist him.  
As time goes by his star rises, as he gives lectures to new patients on how to make the  
most of the opportunities the prison has to offer.  
Paul’s crowning glory came when he was awarded the position of head patient.  
Paul was investigating the possibility of employment at Broadmoor after he was  
discharged, which could not be far away.  
So, it was a great shock to patients and staff alike when he was found hanged in his cell  
2 days after Cole Matthews was admitted.

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly a number 3 in this series, watch this space!


End file.
